Poetry
For some unknown reason as the end of the year approaches I find myself with a lot of extra time, and my creativity finally gets a jumpstart. So I went back to some older poems and things I had written, gave them another polish, and experimented with what else I could come up with. Here's an interesting poem that still kinda in progress, so let me know what you think.
Softly in the night
The presence of the dark begets
our whispered rising fantasy
Gently I press and
Gently you fall
Take this gift of a drunken mind
Use this night not to slumber away
But waken something else that sleeps
But which I know is surely there
For I have gently, gently stroked it
For it stirred, though unaware
Under my insistent touch.
Under my persistent gaze.
Yet the streetlight through the window
Wavers, as we, and silently.
Will you let me be your teacher?
Dare I let you be my muse?
Mixing paint upon my palate
Grasping blindly at the brush
My voice in your ear, the sibilant song
My touch on your flesh, the beckoning breeze
But in this dark we cannot see
And without sight we wait too long.
Softly in the morn
The presence of the light pursues
Our sweet but useless fantasy.
It parts, as we, and silently.
Softly in the night
The presence of the dark begets
our whispered rising fantasy
Gently I press and
Gently you fall
Take this gift of a drunken mind
Use this night not to slumber away
But waken something else that sleeps
But which I know is surely there
For I have gently, gently stroked it
For it stirred, though unaware
Under my insistent touch.
Under my persistent gaze.
Yet the streetlight through the window
Wavers, as we, and silently.
Will you let me be your teacher?
Dare I let you be my muse?
Mixing paint upon my palate
Grasping blindly at the brush
My voice in your ear, the sibilant song
My touch on your flesh, the beckoning breeze
But in this dark we cannot see
And without sight we wait too long.
Softly in the morn
The presence of the light pursues
Our sweet but useless fantasy.
It parts, as we, and silently.